Mom is supposed to be a rock. If I can completely deplete her with just one tantrum, what does that mean? What am I—a little girl struggling with emotional regulation—supposed to do with that information?
Telepathic message to supervisor: End phone conference. Now. Would love to hear about innovative new branding strategies…tomorrow.
Finally, a goodbye. I slammed down the phone, ready to begin my weekly Wednesday sprint.
Mark, a shy copywriting intern, thrust a press release in my face. “Can you look this over?” he said, licking his lips nervously.
“Don’t bodd-ah her!” Angela swiveled in her chair, brandishing a nail file. She winked, picked up her fuchsia jar of polish, then gave a knowing nod. “Lana’s got poy-sonal business to attend to.”
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